Rain Checks and Thunderstorms
by quokka
Summary: Tony and Ziva nonsense based on the prompt: "Get over here now and bring a tarp."


A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed my stories or took the time to leave a review (no matter how short). It means a lot to me to know people actually read a story till the end and enjoyed it. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this one as well.

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Tony startled awake, dropping the half-empty bowl of popcorn. One hand flailed in the general vicinity of his ringing cell phone, the other wiped at his mouth to check for drool. Not that it mattered if he had been drooling in his sleep, there was no-one there to see it or comment. Ziva had wanted to fix a few things in the old house she had recently bought and had taken a rain check on their usual movie night—he couldn't help but smile remembering how proud she had looked at the fitting use of the idiom. The clap of thunder told him the weather hadn't improved much since he left the Navy Yard several hours ago.

"Special Agent DiNozzo," Tony answered the call absentmindedly, cleaning up the spilled popcorn.

"Get over here now and bring a tarp."

His hands stilled as his mind went to high alert at Ziva's tone and request. He heard a stumble, something heavy that must have fallen, a groan in pain from Ziva. The groan sent him flying towards the front door, only stopping long enough to grab his gun and badge.

"Hang in there, Ziva. I'll be there in no time," he said, trying hard to sound calm and confident.

"Don't forget the tarp, this damn …" More noise, a string of Hebrew. "This is going to get messy-"

The line went dead.

Tony raced towards his car and her house. One hand on the steering wheel, the other holding his phone. He desperately tried to get a hold of her again, or Gibbs, only to be greeted by voice mail on both numbers. He wasn't too worried about her safety, he'd seen her fight off plenty of guys twice her size.

He was worried about why she needed a tarp, though. Last time someone asked him to bring a tarp in the middle of the night, he was undercover with the mafia.

What the hell had she gotten herself into this time?

When he barged through the front door, gun at the ready, he half-expected to see some lowlife hanging from the rafters by his wrists. He hadn't expected to see Ziva standing in the middle of her living room, surrounded by buckets, mops, towels and a ladder on its side. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were partially soaked.

She looked at his drawn gun in confusion, then at him. "What are you doing?" Not waiting for an answer she walked towards him. "Did you bring a tarp?"

A nearby bucket full of water drew his attention. Seeing her phone at the bottom, Tony relaxed and started laughing. More out of relief than anything else.

"This is not funny, Tony," Ziva insisted.

"It's a little bit funny," he countered and made a sweeping motion with his arm at the mayhem before him. "Even funnier if you hear what I thought you needed the tarp for."

She narrowed her eyes, took a deep breath and held it. Releasing it on a sigh, she said, "Did you bring a tarp or not? I know Gibbs has one, but he's not answering his phone."

Tony retrieved the tarp from his car and helped her cover the hole in the roof. He made an effort not to question the sanity of being on a rooftop in the middle of a storm.

Once inside, where it wasn't that much warmer or drier, he watched Ziva's shoulders slump as she took in the mess. The hole in the roof was situated directly above the bedroom, which was situated above the living room. Seeing how wooden floors don't stop water, half the couch had gotten soaked. Given that her king-size bed had basically turned into a waterbed, her only option would be spending the night on the floor.

"Impromptu sleepover at my place?"

She turned towards him, a vacant look on her face. He was surprised at seeing her so defeated, but then, they had just finished a harrowing case involving the murder of teenage girl, which had dragged on for weeks. He guessed not having a comfortable home to wind down in was the last straw.

"I'll let you braid my hair," he added and gave her his trademark smile.

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, encouraging him to hold out a hand. She took one last look around and slipped her hand in his, accepting the moral and physical support he offered.

"We'll fix this in the morning," Tony said as they walked through a maze of buckets towards the front door.

"We?" Ziva replied, cocking her head and lifting an eyebrow. "What do you know about home repair?"

"There was this show with Tim Al-"

"No! We will see how hung-over Gibbs is first."

"That should be fun," he replied sarcastically, glancing at her sideways.

"Is it too early to cash in that rain check?" she asked with a smile. The squeeze she gave his hand as she leaned in closer and grabbed his arm with her other hand was unexpected and made his skin tingle.

"More like too late," Tony said. Her eyes darted away for a split second before he continued, "It's 2 in the morning, and we're both wet and exhausted. How about we postpone movie night till tomorrow? Actually, that would be today after all, just much, much later today."

"It's a date," Ziva said, giving his arm and hand another squeeze.

"Is it?" He looked down at her with raised eyebrows, a flutter in his belly.

Ziva bit her lower lip and looked away briefly. When she looked at him again her eyes sparkled and she said with a light voice, "I will make lasagna, but I am not getting dressed up for you."

Tony grinned and opened the front door. The wind whipped a fine mist of rain inside. His pulse was racing again. This time for an entirely different reason than when he had burst through the door earlier.

He leaned in close so he wouldn't have to shout over the downpour. "As far as I'm concerned, you don't have to get dressed at all."

Tony took advantage of her momentary surprise and dashed towards his car, in case she wanted to retaliate. The glare she sent him after sliding into the passenger's seat a few moments later was entirely unconvincing, though.

As he started the car, she said, "Maybe you need to improve your DIY skills."

He smirked and backed out of the driveway. "I've been told I have very skilled hands. I'd be more than happy to prove it to you."


End file.
